


The Not-So-Fun Bits

by eeyore9990



Series: 30 Thankful Days [22]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Derek, M/M, Menstrual Sex, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Trope Subversion/Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek helps Stiles through his <i>other</i> time of the month.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Not-So-Fun Bits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [standinginanicedress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/standinginanicedress/gifts).



> 30 Thankful Days, Day 22: Gift for standinginanicedress

"Where's Stiles?" Derek asked in a low, soft voice, fighting back a growl of frustrated irritation. When no ready answer came, he looked up, eyes flashing. "Where _is_ he, Scott? He knows he's supposed to be here." 

Scott stood across the planning table, arms crossed stubbornly. He stared back at Derek, chin lifted in defiance and let his silence speak for him. 

"I could call his father," Derek suggested, going so far as to pull his phone from his back pocket. 

Arms falling slightly open, Scott flinched forward like he was going to stop Derek. Okay, good, there was some wiggle room there. 

"Look," Scott said, blowing out an angry breath. "It's not a big deal, okay? He just… needs the night off. You don't need him here; you've got the rest of us." He gestured around the room, nearly wincing as he brought Derek's attention to where Erica and Boyd were making out in one corner and Isaac was playing some mindless game on his phone a few steps away from them. Just far enough not to get hit by stray bodily fluids, honestly. 

Derek planted his hands on his hips, staring down at the floor as he reminded himself he'd _chosen_ three of the four idiots here. Granted, he'd been power-mad at the time, so he couldn't blame himself too much but… He needed Stiles. Needed that too-distracted, too-sharp brain. Needed Stiles' charisma to get the rest of them to focus because sure as hell _he_ couldn't. 

"Where. Is he?" 

Scott deflated all at once, a pleading look in his eyes when he said, "Please don't make me go get him. Please, man. I just… I don't need to see that. I've done enough in defense of this town, wouldn't you say?" 

"Scott!" 

"Fine! He's at Lydia's--" 

Derek was already across the room before the last syllable of her name left Scott's lips, snatching his jacket off the back of the ratty sofa, listening to the tinkle of his keys inside the front left pocket. "Don't leave; I'll be back in thirty minutes." 

"Dude," Scott called, and there was something in his voice that made Derek turn back, look at him from under brows drawn tight with anger. "You really don't want to go there right now, man. I'm serious, Derek. It's not…" Scott shrugged, hands splayed as he obviously fought for the right words to describe it. 

"Thirty minutes," Derek promised darkly. "I expect you all to know three ways in and out of every location marked on the map by the time I get back." 

\-- 

The Camaro's tires did not screech to a halt in front of the Martin's house; that would be stupid and too-telling. Derek had no idea where those black marks came from that ruined the pristine perfection of the clean concrete driveway. Delivery drivers these days. Tsk. 

Opening his door, Derek's absurd thoughts about tire tracks were wiped away by the scent of pain and blood and Stiles. With a roar of fury, he ran toward the house, bypassing the front door as he leapt up onto the balcony that he knew for a fact led directly into Lydia's bedroom. The door opened to his touch, which was a good thing. Otherwise, he'd have ripped it right off its hinges. 

But the scene inside the frilly pink bedroom was one Derek couldn't quite comprehend. Lydia was sitting on the bed, one curvaceous, bare leg crossed over the other as she tapped away on a tablet. Near her on the bed, Stiles seemed to be doing… yoga poses? His arms were crossed over his belly, his weight resting on the very top of his head as he dug his toes into the bed, his body an inverted V. 

"What. Why are you--" Derek blinked, took a step back, and scowled. "This is why you're missing the meeting? _Yoga?!_ " 

"Yo-- _hnnngh_ \--ga? What the fuck are you talking about?" Stiles dropped to his side, curling up in the fetal position as he glared at Derek, his face pale and lips almost bloodless. Another burst of pain came off him in waves and Derek jerked again, his back coming up hard against the edge of the door he'd flung open as he entered. 

"You're…" Derek gestured at him, at the contortions he was making -- head and shoulders hanging off the edge of the bed now, legs stretched straight, only _not_ kicking Lydia because she'd moved out of the way without even looking up from what she was doing. 

And then she did. 

"Oh good, one of _you_ is here." Eyebrow arching high on her forehead, she narrowed her eyes dangerously at Derek and snapped, "Well? What are you waiting for?" 

Derek looked behind him, even as he acknowledged how stupid that was. "What?" 

"His Midol hasn't kicked in yet," Lydia said with a sigh that spoke clearly of her thoughts regarding his intellect -- or lack thereof. 

"Store brand," Stiles hissed, his face splotching with color as the heat of anger brought the blood to it. That and gravity. 

"As I've told you a thousand times, Stiles," Lydia snarled back, thumping her tablet onto the mattress beside her so she could lift a pointed fingernail in Stiles' direction, "it doesn't matter if it's store brand or name brand. The only thing that matters is the active ingredient! Which is the same. Now." She stood, her short skirt swishing around her thighs as she tossed her long hair back. "There is a werewolf here. An _Alpha_ werewolf. Since Alphas get to enjoy the fun bits, one of them can damn well deal with the not-so-fun bits. And Stiles?" 

"Hnnnn?" he whimpered, clutching at his belly. 

"There'd better not be a single drop of blood anywhere in this room when I return. Do you understand me?" 

"Urrrgh." 

Lydia snorted at his answer then stared at Derek pointedly. When he didn't move, just remained frozen on the spot, she bared her teeth at him and sniffed haughtily. "I know you can do the pain thing. I've seen Scott do it. Either help him or don't, but I expect the both of you to be gone when I get back in," her eyes flicked to the clock, "three hours. Is that clear?" 

Derek blinked, sliding his gaze over to Stiles who was apparently giving himself the Heimlich maneuver using the back of Lydia's desk chair, and then nodded in a daze. "Yeah. Clear." 

The door slammed so hard behind her that a picture fell off the wall. It landed on a pillow, though, so Derek wasn't too worried about it. That and… well, the tide of anger that had driven him all the way across town vanished with Lydia, leaving nothing but concern behind. 

Edging slowly across the room, Derek was almost to Stiles when Stiles flung himself back onto the bed, rolling up into a tight ball as he whimpered. Derek reached out, touching the bared back of Stiles' neck, and nearly crashed to his own knees at the pain that flowed into him from that point of contact. 

"What the… Jesus, Stiles, what is this?" 

"Nnnuuuh. Oh god, so much better." Stiles flopped all the way onto his belly, arching his spine so that his neck was pressed even harder into Derek's touch. "So much. Better…" His voice went a little spacey, light and floaty, and Derek realized if he didn't dial it down a notch, Stiles would probably pass out from the effects of the pain drain. "Hhhhuu, wait no. Don't give it back." 

"I don't want you falling asleep," Derek said, gingerly settling on the bed beside Stiles, straightening the hem of his shirt that had ridden up during his spastic flopping. "What's wrong? What is this?" 

"Fucking… period. Cramps are a goddamn son of a bitch." 

Derek was so shocked he almost let go… almost. Instead, he wrapped his hand around the back of Stiles' neck, squeezing the still-tense muscles there. "Why? I mean, I know Omegas have them, but I thought male Omegas only went through this when--" 

"You." Stiles was obviously trying to snarl, but he was far too relaxed to work up a good one. "Your whole 'I'm the Alpha, rwarrr' schtick totally triggered my heat last month. I took suppressants and spent two days with a medical-grade knotting dildo up my ass, but yeah. If Omegas don't get knocked up during heat, our bodies feel betrayed and pitch a fit two to three weeks later. My goddamn uterus is puking its guts up." Stiles reached one hand over, swinging it weakly into Derek's chest in a half-hearted smack. "'S all your fault, you fucking douche. Hate you." 

Derek tightened his grip, then eased his fingers up like he was going to let go. Just to be an ass. Also to feel Stiles arch up against his hold again, a whining sound coming from him when he thought Derek was going to stop draining his pain. 

As if he would. 

With a sigh, Derek toed off his sneakers and curled up on the bed behind Stiles, tugging him back against the hard planes of his chest. He made sure one hand was touching Stiles at all times as he moved his hand from Stiles' neck to his belly. Massaging the skin there lightly while continuing to drain Stiles' pain, Derek tucked his face in the place his hand had been moments before, the cold tip of his nose warming from Stiles' body heat. "What can I do?" 

Stiles shrugged, pressing Derek's undulating hand a little lower on his belly and then pushing in hard with it. "This. Maybe some chocolate later, once my Midol kicks in. Orgasms help with the cramps too, but…" 

Derek's breath caught in his throat. "But?" he croaked, trying to will his body not to go too rigid behind Stiles and give away his very pointed interest in the direction the conversation had taken an abrupt turn toward. 

"I mean, I know you're not up for that. So just the chocolate." 

Nudging his nose a little more firmly into the back of Stiles' neck, Derek let his breath blow warm over the sensitive skin there. "About that…" 

_Stiles_ went stiff, then shivered as Derek's pinky finger moved a _little_ further down his belly, just edging under the waistband of his low-slung jeans. "Wait… you?" 

"You're supposed to be the smart one, Stiles. Please tell me I don't have to bump another person up to that spot because Isaac really isn't up for it." 

Wriggling against him, Stiles asked, his voice a little too excited, "It should be Erica anyway, she's way--" 

"She's too distractible." 

"And I'm not?" 

Dragging his lips over the spot behind Stiles' ear, Derek murmured, "You're focused when you need to be. The rest of it's just nerves." 

"Focus… yeah." Stiles went boneless against him, then wriggled again, then flipped onto his back, nearly unseating Derek's hand -- and definitely banging Derek's nose a little with the back of his head. "Dude, I really, _really_ want your hand on my dick, like, yesterday. If you're not just teasing me, please can you--" 

Derek unbuttoned Stiles' jeans with one hand, wincing as he forgot himself and stopped draining Stiles' pain. 

"No, no, it's fine. I think the meds are kicking in," Stiles said, using both hands to help Derek undress him. His underwear was a little ratty, bulky between his thighs like… oh right. A pad. 

Leaning up on one elbow, Derek looked down at Stiles, one eyebrow raised. "How should we do this?" 

Stiles rolled his eyes and pushed the front of his underwear low, hooking the elastic band under his balls. 

"Lydia said--" 

"I'm not going to bleed all over her bedding, Derek. Now, either give me a hand or get out of here." 

Derek held his hand in front of Stiles' mouth and whispered, "Lick." 

Stiles looked up at him, eyes dark and heavy-lidded as he slowly parted his lips and sucked at the palm of Derek's hand, laving it steadily with his tongue. Like he was making out with Derek's hand. Derek tried not to let that affect him, but he could feel his dick straining against the zip of his jeans. When his hand was wet, almost dripping with saliva, Derek pulled it slowly away from Stiles' mouth and reached down, not breaking eye contact for even a second as he wrapped his hand around Stiles' slender dick and gave it a tug, twisting his hand over the head before smoothing his fist back down to the base. 

"Like that?" he asked, and even to him his voice sounded too gritty, too affected for a mere handjob. Especially since he was the one _giving_ it. 

"Y-yeah," Stiles breathed, hips arching up, driving his cock more firmly into Derek's grip. And then he reached up and wrapped one hand around the back of Derek's neck and tugged, pulling him slightly off balance. 

Their mouths met, already open, their breaths mingling as Stiles whimpered and moaned into the kiss, his body's motions a little uncoordinated in his inexperience. Derek hummed, sucking on his tongue as he moved in closer, hooking one leg over Stiles' to hold him down. And then he jacked him, slow and steady, his grip tight and sure. 

Stiles' fingers spasmed where they were still gripping the back of his neck, his back bowing off the bed as he got close and closer, the sounds he was making more and more desperate, his teeth a little too eager as he bit at Derek's lips. 

Derek could _smell_ it, under the blood and old pain. Could smell Stiles' arousal and building climax. He could smell the thin come as it got closer to the surface. Just as Stiles' thighs were snapping together, Derek jerked away from their kiss, ducking his head down as he angled Stiles' dick up. Stiles' shout was one part exaltation, one part surprise as Derek's lips closed over the tip of his dick, drinking down the come that blurted from it in steady pulses. Though not before the first burst of come shot over his cheek. 

When he'd drained Stiles, when Stiles was slumped against the soft mattress with a look of stunned wonder of his face, Derek tugged his underwear and jeans back up, tucking him in gently, lingering only a little. 

"You," Stiles said, eyes a little glazed. "Whaaa…" He lifted one nearly-boneless hand, finger trembling as he dragged it through the come strung in Derek's scruff. "Holy shit." 

"Next time," Derek whispered softly, pressing his denim-covered dick into the side of Stiles' hip just to tease himself with the pressure and friction. "Next time you go into heat, _I want to be there_. Even if you don't want me to help you, to _knot_ you, at least let me be the one holding the dildo." 

"Holy fuck," Stiles whispered just before a huge, happy grin stretched across his face, lighting up his eyes. "You wanna knot me. Derek Hale wants to put his big ol' Alpha knot in me." 

Derek frowned, grumbling. "I mean, if you've got better offers…" 

"Uh, no? Have you not seen me? It's not like I'm drowning in dick here, dude." Stiles' grin softened as he thumbed at Derek's cheek again. "I mean, besides my own." 

"Dumbass," Derek sighed, dropping his forehead to Stiles' shoulder. Then, thinking about it, he rubbed his cheek there too, wiping off the last of the come because he was at least a little bit of an asshole. 

Stiles sighed, smelling content, then wriggled under Derek and poked him in the arm. "Hey. About that chocolate…" 


End file.
